


sailing no more

by flightagain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightagain/pseuds/flightagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toy Story AU, for deancas week 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sailing no more

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a while ago, but I'm adding it here now I use ao3. :)

Castiel lies on the hardwood floor, exactly where he fell. He’s by the staircase, and he can only just see the window, the open shutters that he tried to reach. He can only just see the small triangle of blue sky.

The honey bee seems to have gone, though. He thinks he might be glad of that. The bee, the stairs, that commercial – they’re not things he wants to think about right now.

His wings are uncomfortable, caught between his body and the floor, digging into his back. One of his arms has detached, fallen off somewhere nearby. It’s nothing to worry about, of course. This happens, sometimes, to toys.

Castiel shuts his eyes.

He presses a button on his trenchcoat and his wings disappear, sliding mechanically back into the coat. He thuds properly to the ground, now that they’re gone.

He had to press a _button_ to do that.

How has he been so stupid?

Castiel thinks of the grey panelling on his trenchcoat sleeve, the blue and yellow buttons below it. Angel radio, he had told the toys, as they’d stood around him on Ben’s bed. Broken, he’d said, during his journey to earth. He had assumed it was true because he couldn’t hear the other angels’ voices, couldn’t hear any static at all. But it all seems very obvious, now. He wonders what the panelling really is. A sticker, maybe. A bit of paint.

There’s a sound somewhere, and Castiel opens his eyes. He remembers that Dean is in the house, too. Possibly at the mercy of that strange boy, Jesse. Castiel needs to find him.

“Cas? _Cas_ , what the hell.”

Ah. There he is.

Dean’s footsteps grow nearer, the familiar sound of his boots, and now that Castiel knows he’s safe, the urge to see him disappears completely. They should just leave. They should not talk, not look at each other, and leave.

Castiel wishes he’d been able to fix his arm, before seeing Dean.

“Oh, whoa, okay,” Dean is saying, and his footsteps come faster now. Castiel sits up quickly. The world tilts and shifts.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, but Dean grabs at his remaining arm, his shoulder, gets him propped up against the bottom of the staircase. Dean is peering at him, cowboy hat askew, and Castiel wishes he’d stop.

“What happened?” Dean says. “Dude, did Jesse get you, did – “ He steps back. Castiel looks down, but he can still see Dean in the corner of his vision. Dean is trying to catch his eye. Castiel feels too dizzy to look back, even if he’d wanted to. His thoughts are blurry and strange.

“I saw a honey bee,” Castiel says, “in the garden.” It isn’t an explanation, but Castiel doesn’t want to give an explanation. He just wants his vision to level out so that they can leave. He takes several careful breaths, letting things clear up.

The bee had been flying. And yes, Castiel had just seen the commercial, yes, he had figured things out. But the bee had been out there, flying, and it had looked so easy to do.

“Um,” Dean says. “You wanna elaborate? And where’s – oh. Okay, I’m just getting your arm,” he tells Castiel, and disappears from view. After a moment there’s an uncomfortable shoving feeling, Dean reattaching the arm. Good as new, just as though Castiel had never been broken at all.

 _You’re a sad, strange little man, and you have my pity._ Castiel remembers saying that to Dean. He understands the irony of it now, as Dean looks at him, his gaze soft like Castiel’s never seen it, like Castiel doesn’t want it to be. “A bee?” Dean prompts, hand hovering near Castiel’s shoulder, as if he might topple over at any moment. Dean’s expecting an answer here. Castiel wishes they could just shout at each other again. That had been very easy to do.

“I saw a commercial,” he mutters, because Dean will have to find out eventually. But Dean just frowns, like that makes even less sense. So Castiel stares determinedly at the ground and says, “For the Garrison.” For the angels, for the _latest venture in action figures_. There was a child’s hand holding Anna, moving her through the air. There were boxes with toys inside them, and one of them had been Castiel. Just like Dean’s been trying to tell him all along.

There’s a silence. “We should go,” Castiel says, and he stands, fast, and it’s not so bad, he’s got some balance back now.

“You tried to fly,” Dean is realizing. He sounds concerned. Castiel grimaces.

“It doesn’t matter. We should – is the door the best option, still? Have you found another route?”

Castiel had flown before, in Ben’s room. He had soared up from the little orange car track, and the toys had applauded, Charlie and Jo had even cheered, everyone had been happy. Except for Dean. Castiel had been strangely disappointed by that. He would’ve liked Dean to cheer, to be happy. Dean was always smiling at the other toys – he seemed to be friends with everybody – but not at Castiel.

Dean had been right, though, in the end. _Falling with style_ , that’s what he’d called it, and that’s all it had been. Not flying. Just falling. Just a cheap stunt, exactly like a toy would do.

“Hey,” Dean is saying, and Castiel must not be fully recovered, because he didn’t notice Dean moving so close. “Cas, hey, did you hear me? I talked to the toys in Jesse’s room – Benny and the rest – and they’re actually not so bad. They’re gonna help us get out, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel echoes. He adds, “Thank you,” because it’s only polite. Because Dean could easily have just left him behind. That would’ve been a relief for Dean, probably. Castiel has caused him so much trouble.

(He remembers the claw, the strange machine that Castiel didn’t realize Jesse was controlling. He remembers Dean grasping his hand, Dean shouting not to let go. He remembers letting go. And Dean had still stuck with him, even then. Dean had yelled and complained, but Castiel is beginning to think that he’d just wanted to make sure Castiel was okay.)

Dean is leading him away now, off to find the other toys.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says, so quietly that he thinks Dean might not hear. “I didn’t – you were right. I’m sorry.” He’s been ridiculous. He feels ridiculous. He can’t look at Dean.

He waits for laughter, for a smart remark. But then Dean’s arm is slinging round his shoulders, settling there, and that’s a surprise. It’s nice, Castiel thinks. It feels nice. Dean hasn’t done this before.

“Hey,” Dean says, and there’s no pity in his voice, not a trace. “It wasn’t your fault, not knowing. It was Garrison programming, I bet. Your manufacturers. You can’t help what those guys do.” He squeezes Castiel’s shoulder, once. “And dude? It’s not so bad, being a toy. It can be great. I mean, Ben’s such an awesome kid. And there’s the rest of us, too – we’re pretty fun. I’m definitely fun.” He smiles at Castiel. And how strange, that it’s this that makes Dean smile – not the radio, not the trick with the car track, but this. Just the two of them here. Dean’s smile is a little unsure, but it’s encouraging, like he wants Castiel to smile back.

Castiel wants to, as well. He gives it a try.

“All right,” Dean says, and he’s grinning now, he’s clapping Castiel on the back. “C’mon then, buddy. We’re going home.”


End file.
